


Not About the Book

by everythingmurky



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Fluff, Gen, anything else would be telling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 13:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9739766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingmurky/pseuds/everythingmurky
Summary: A time traveler reads a bedtime story.(Can be seen as tied to another one of my stories. Or not.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> So there is a whole backstory to this, but I was having a night where my brain was so fried from work I could barely think, and I returned to one of the side story ideas I had. If I give full backstory, there's spoilers and complications.
> 
> If I don't, people can just enjoy a moment where the Doctor is quasi-domestic. Sort of.
> 
> (and, no, not going to get to Child of Time today, sorry.)

* * *

“You're late.”

The sight of the child, all of five years, hands on her hips, nothing but ginger and pout, made him smile. He almost forgot to adjust his accent before he spoke. “Sorry, love.”

“No, Mum is love. I'm _darling,”_ the girl insisted, and he laughed, unable to stop himself even as she glared at him. Then the eyes got wide and vulnerable and almost like a kick in the gut. “You didn't forget, did you?”

“'Course not, Darling,” he said, liking the way that word rolled off his tongue. And it was perfect for her, just the thing, the exact thing that she should be called, this little bit of miracle and wonder. “Just teasing.”

“Mum says you shouldn't tease because you don't know how,” she said, and that did sound quite like she'd recited it verbatim from someone else. “She's wrong. You do, when you're not grumpy or sad. But you're always grumpy.”

“Not sad?” the Doctor asked, sitting down next to the bed.

“Being sad makes you grumpy,” she proclaimed, very solemn, and the Doctor had to fight not to laugh when she did.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It does. Now... I'm told you have a very specific book and only that book will do when it comes to bedtime stories.”

She frowned. “Did you lose my book again?”

“Oh, no,” the Doctor assured her quickly, reaching into his pocket and taking out the book. “See? Book.”

She frowned. “That's not our book.”

“Yes, it is,” the Doctor said, knowing he'd gotten a copy of the right one. He'd had that lecture, and he wasn't making that mistake, no. Not when he would disappoint more than one person who was important to him.

“I marked on it. Right there. You were mad.”

The Doctor sighed. So much for getting a new copy. “You're right, Darling. The thing is, though, that this book—simple, colorful, brilliant as it is—also has this nice feature where if you mark it, you can wash it off. Isn't that fantastic?”

She gave him a distrustful look, and he supposed he deserved it. He opened the cover and held it out in front of her as she settled back on her pillow. “'Thomas was a tank engine who lived at a big station. He had six small wheels, a short stumpy funnel, a short stumpy boiler, and a short stumpy—'”

“Remember to do the voices,” she said through a tired yawn. “You're better at them than Mum is.”

“Of course,” he agreed. He didn't think it would matter, as she was already half asleep already. He picked up his reading, and sure enough, before he got two paragraphs down where Thomas was teasing Gordon, she was out.

He leaned over and kissed her forehead, leaning back to brush back more of her hair. “Night, Daisy.”


End file.
